Poemsby Emily Dickinson

XLV

 Before the ice is in the pools,   Before the skaters go, Or any cheek at nightfall   Is tarnished by the snow, 
 Before the fields have finished,   Before the Christmas tree, Wonder upon wonder   Will arrive to me! 
 What we touch the hems of   On a summer's day; What is only walking   Just a bridge away; 
 That which sings so, speaks so,   When there's no one here, - Will the frock I wept in   Answer me to wear?